


The Morning After

by therealfroggy



Category: A-Team (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 17:12:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/therealfroggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Face and Hannibal hook up while drunk. Then Face wakes up and remembers he's not gay, and kind of freaks out. Written in response to a kink meme at LiveJournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

Face sighed, stretched, shifted around a bit. His head was thrumming warningly and his eyes itched. Also, his mouth tasted like tobacco and drunkenness. And... something bitter. There was a salty aftertaste in his mouth as if he'd eaten onion rings all night and not bothered to wash it down with beer.

Then Face noticed there were a pair of arms around his waist, and he forced his bleary eyes open. Girls didn't cuddle up to him in his sleep – they expected to be cuddled up to and were disappointed. Also, the arms around his middle were distinctly strong and hairy. Masculine. Shit.

After a quick glance at his surroundings, Face realized he was in his and Murdock's bedroom in their current safehouse. He hoped to high heaven that Murdock hadn't had to watch him drag some _guy_ back to their allegedly safe location, and hell, Hannibal would have his guts for garters for compromising the team like that!

Face tried, very carefully, to extract himself from the unfamiliar embrace, but there was a sleepy snuffle at the nape of his neck and the arms tightened. Whomever was holding him, nuzzled sleepily at his shoulder and Face realized he'd woken the other guy (and that made him want to blush) up. He steeled himself for a distinctly awkward moment in which he would surely have to ask the guy to leave.

“Mmph,” came an indistinct rumble from behind him, and Face stiffened. He knew that voice, and it made his insides freeze over in fear.

“Uhm... boss?” Face asked, his throat dry and his head still spinning a little from the previous night's binge.

There was silence. The warm body curled up behind Face stiffened, then withdrew suddenly.

“Face?”

Face turned around, shifting further away from the other man as he did so, and forced his eyes to meet those of one Hannibal Smith, blue and wide with surprise. Hannibal stared at him for a long moment, and then a deep crimson blush stole over the older man's cheeks.

“Uh... good morning.”

Face sat up slowly, holding his head in place with one hand. Damn, that was one hell of a hangover he could feel coming on, and that didn't exactly make his situation any easier. “Did we... last night?”

Hannibal sat up, too, and Face noticed he was naked under the cover. That they were sharing. Oh, shit. They definitely had, then. They'd done something, at least.

“You don't remember?” Hannibal asked, and he looked a little confused.

“No,” Face admitted, trying not to stare at his boss' bulky chest. There were purplish love-bites all over it. Had he done that? Shit. Double shit.

“To be honest, the details are a little fuzzy to me, too,” Hannibal said, sounding a little apologetic. “You feel... sore at all?”

Face did so not want to have this conversation. But even as he shifted on the sheets, he could feel the tell-tale stickiness of sex. He seemed to be sticky _everywhere_. Then he lifted his legs in an attempt to swing them off the side of the bed, and damn. He was sore in ways he'd never imagined he'd be sore, alright.

“Uh... I think you... to me... last night,” he says, trying so hard not to stare at those love-bites. What had Hannibal done to him to make him that _enthusiastic_? He never left hickies. They were incriminating.

But then, he never had sex with men, either, so perhaps the hickies were not what he needed to worry about.

“Well, I could say I'm sorry, but...” Hannibal grinned weakly, as if trying his best to smile despite the hangover he was surely feeling. “I'd be lying.”

“I'm not gay,” Face blurted. He didn't like where this was going. “I don't like guys!”

Hannibal's mouth fell open, but then the older man seemed to think better of it. “You seemed to like 'em well enough last night.”

Ouch. Face grimaced. _Unfair. Bastard._

“Why did we even...” Face began, staring resolutely at his blanket-covered legs.

“Shit, kid, I don't know,” Hannibal said, and groaned. “My head is killing me. I need coffee. You want any?”

“Why are you not freaking out about this?” Face demanded, his voice rising in pitch. He was having his own little break-down here; he couldn't believe the boss could be all calm and cool about this. Yeah, Hannibal was always cool, but about this? About hooking up with Face – with another man, damn it – under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol?

“What is there to freak out about?” Hannibal said, sounding a little annoyed now. “We were drunk. We had sex. It wasn't bad, actually, and I'm not going to give you shit for it. What's the problem, kid?”

“What's the problem? You're not the one who got butt-fucked and can't even remember it!” Face shouted. He was really, really freaking out about this. He was straight, damn it! He'd never even looked at a man before, not like that!

Hannibal grinned, and this time it was flirtatious and genuine. “So this is about your wounded pride and masculinity? Stop yapping, kid; I'll let you top next time.”

“Next time?” Face asked, completely gob-smacked. “Boss, you can't be serious! If I ever get that drunk again, you can ship me off to rehab. Maybe Murdock'll be in the next room, getting weaned off his psych meds!”

Face finally looked up and met Hannibal's eyes, and was thrown completely off-kilter by what he saw. Hannibal looked... hurt. Really, actually hurt, almost like Murdock whenever BA threatened to send Billy to the pound. It looked completely wrong on the colonel's face.

“I read you, lieutenant. I'll go put that coffee on,” he said, and simply got up and left the bed. Face tried not to stare at Hannibal's completely shameless nudity as the older man pulled on his discarded boxers and then his khakis, and grabbed his shirt before leaving the room.

Face was left sitting on the bed, staring at his feet. Fuck. How could he ever show his, well, face around the team again?

Things got worse as the morning (or afternoon; they'd slept until nearly noon, after all) progressed. Face padded hesitantly in to breakfast only to find that Murdock had made pancakes in the shape of big, fluffy hearts. The pilot looked happily expectant until he saw Face's grimace, and then his whole expression just plummeted.

“Facey, where's the bossman?”

“How should I know?” Face answered grumpily, grabbing a dry slice of toast and a cup of coffee. “I'm not his parole officer.”

“But last night, you -” Murdock began.

“Shut up, fool,” BA said from the other side of the table. The dark man was trying very hard to read a newspaper, but the grim set of his mouth told Face he was not in his best mood. “Can't you see the man ain't interested in talkin'?”

Murdock gave a heart-wrenching sigh. “Poor bossman.”

Face escaped to the back porch to munch on his toast in peace. He sat down in the rickety old rocking chair that was left out there, trying not to burn his tongue on the coffee. That Hannibal had made. The conman grimaced again; he really didn't want to think about Hannibal. But he supposed it was inevitable.

He'd had sex with another man. With Hannibal. And the older man obviously didn't have a problem with it; Face supposed Hannibal must be bisexual. Or gay. Or whatever; it didn't really matter. It amounted to the fact that Hannibal didn't regret last night, while Face did.

Or at least he thought he did; he couldn't remember anything, so perhaps he'd had a great time. What did he know? Face groaned and rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. He'd obviously liked it a whole lot, or he wouldn't have been sucking all over Hannibal's body like that. Or he wouldn't have let Hannibal _fuck_ him. He hoped.

“All that thinking can't be good for ya, Facey. Sure you don't want any pancakes?”

Murdock, wearing his baseball cap and a “Kiss the Cook” apron, came tiptoeing out onto the porch. He held out the platter of pancakes, and Face could see they'd all been sliced clean down the middle. Great. According to Murdock, he'd broken Hannibal's heart. That was just cruel.

“Sure, Murdock, give me a pancake,” he sighed, and Murdock made a great show of rolling up half a pancake and flying it into Face's mouth like a little air plane.

“Didn't you like it?” Murdock asked, munching absently on a pancake himself.

“What?” Face said, not really in the mood for Murdock talk.

“The bet. You told me to bunk with Bosco last night because you had a bet to settle with the bossman, so I did. You didn't like how the bet came out, did you?” Murdock explained.

“Did you, uh, hear what the bet was about?” Face asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. He honestly couldn't remember anything after the sixth Jägermeister shot.

“Nah, you didn't tell me,” Murdock said, sounding completely unconcerned. “But then Bosco and I could hear you goin' at it like Energizer bunnies all night, so I suppose it had something to do with sex.”

Face choked on a mouthful of pancake and almost coughed it up all over the porch.

“What!” he gasped when he'd finally found his breath again.

“Yeah, you were moaning the boss' name and he was shouting yours and the bed was thumpin' against the wall, making a right racket,” Murdock said lightly. Apparently, these things weren't a big deal in Murdock's world.

Face decided right then and there that he had to stop acting like an embarrassed college student after a sorority keg party. “Hey, Murdock, did you see where Hannibal went?”

“Over yonder,” Murdock said, pointing with a rolled-up pancake in the direction of the small shed sitting in the well-kept garden surrounding the house.

Face gave himself a good mental slap and headed out to the shed, barefoot in the – thankfully – dew-free grass. He could hear the sounds of work being done from yards away, so he knocked on the door before hunching down enough to enter.

The small room was filled with cigar smoke. Hannibal was bent over the tiniest work-bench Face had ever seen, his back to the door. From what Face could see in the cramped space, the colonel was working a screwdriver against something which suspiciously resembled a table lamp.

“Hey, boss.”

Hannibal didn't turn around, which wasn't good. Neither was the fact that he seemed to be de-assembling a lamp. Hannibal didn't do destructive; that was more along BA's line.

“Lamp didn't work,” Hannibal explained, as if Face had asked. “Wire's bent in a few places. I thought I'd fix it as a small repayment for borrowing the house.”

“Uh, boss... Hannibal?” Face began, not really sure what he wanted to say to the older man. Or if he even should. “Did last night... It meant something to you?”

Hannibal finally turned around, then, expression guarded and eyes cold. “How so?”

“Well, Murdock made heart-shaped pancakes for breakfast,” Face said, feeling his cheeks heat up with an embarrassing blush. “And when I came down alone, he cut them all in half. But he said something about a bet, so I figured... it was just a stupid, drunken thing, right? We were betting on something?”

Hannibal's eyes softened a little, but his expression stayed the same. “I told you, in my infinite drunken wisdom,” and Face had to grin at this, “that having sex with a man is better than with a woman. You begged to differ, and – yet another brilliant scheme of mine – I told you I could prove it. Long story short, you bet me that if I made you like it better than having sex with women, you'd do anything I wanted... for as long as I wanted... every night for a month.”

Face gave a horrified sound of shame. “We did not make that bet!”

“We did,” Hannibal said, and his tone was a little clipped. “The bet followed close on the heels of your discovery that I like men.”

Face forgot his own discomfort for a moment. “You do?”

Hannibal shrugged. “And women. But having sex with men _is_ better, though I suppose I lost the bet.”

He sounded so sad Face had to blink a few times to make sure he was seeing the right person. Hannibal Smith, sad? No. Just didn't happen. Ever. And why would he be, anyway? Face was the one who'd had his sexuality all scrambled up and confused!

“So it was just a bet? Drunken shenanigans and whatnot?” Face insisted, shuffling his bare feet. His jeans and t-shirt was all he was wearing, really, and the shed was surprisingly cool in comparison to the garden and porch. “I mean... we're cool?”

“Whatever you want to call it, kid,” Hannibal agreed, sounding very, very blank. Which was also all wrong, Face realized.

“Shit, Hannibal, work with me here. I need to know if this was something else to you than it was to me, or if I did or said something that... Did I fuck up badly last night?” he concluded, not liking this bland, unresponsive Hannibal.

“I can't tell you that, kid,” Hannibal said, looking away.

“Fuck, why not?” Face demanded. He was getting annoyed. Hannibal was evading his questions.

“Because you won't like the answer, and I can't let this get in the way of keeping the team straight,” Hannibal snapped. Then a humourless smile quirked the corner of his lips. “Aside from the obvious deviations in sexual preference, of course.”

Face was so tempted to laugh he had to bite his lip not to. Hannibal would be himself even in an absurd situation like this.

“Maybe I won't like it, but I can handle it. I won't make a big deal out of it, I swear, boss. You know me; I can handle this professionally. I need to know.”

Hannibal sighed and put the damn screwdriver down on the shelf next to him. “You need to know, kid? You know that saying, curiosity killed the cat? Pandora's box and all that? Some things are better left unsaid,” he said.

“Well, kill the cat, then,” Face challenged, stepping forward into Hannibal's space. He really meant it as a provocation to make the other man react, but when Hannibal's cheeks flamed and the older man turned his head away, Face had his answer.

In a quiet voice, Face asked, “So how long have you been... interested in me in that way?”

Hannibal shook his head. “Since the day I saw you charming your way into the officers' mess tent without a single bar on your shoulder,” he said. “Since you weaselled your way onto my unit and began grinning at me in that arrogant way. Yes, Face, you've got a fucking arrogant grin and you know it.

“I've always been sexually attracted to you. I've been... more than interested in you for years. I thought you might... well, never mind, I didn't know you were _that_ drunk last night,” Hannibal sighed.

Face studied the man in front of him. He looked weary, somehow; fifteen years or so older than the conman and still stronger and a better fighter, but in that moment, he looked... old. It was a bit of a shock to the system, really, seeing Hannibal like that. Looking all... resigned.

“So you... you'd like there to be a next time,” Face said lamely.

Hannibal barked a laugh. “Fuck yes, kid. I'd love for there to be a next time. But I get it; you don't bend that way. So let's just forget this ever happened, alright? It'll be better for the team.”

Face scrunched up his nose. “I don't think I can just forget it, boss. It was my first time with a guy, after all.”

Hannibal's grin was lopsided. “And it was a complete disaster, am I right?”

Face shook his head. “Hey, better you than anyone else. I just wish I hadn't... I wouldn't have, if I'd known how you felt.”

It was Hannibal's time to grimace. “Don't turn this into a soap opera, kid.”

“I'm not trying to,” Face scoffed. “It's just... is it really better? With guys? I mean, since I don't remember anything...”

Hannibal turned to lean on the work-bench, back to his XO. “Don't, kid. Don't do that. I'm not an emotional man, but I don't think I can stand guiding you through finding your sexuality.”

It hit Face in the skull with the force of a freight train, then. Hannibal loved him. Was in love with him. Or something similar. Bottom line, his colonel really had feelings for him and when was the last time Face had had a chance at that? When was the last time someone had actually cared about him like Hannibal did? When was the last time someone had liked him so much they couldn't even stand to talk about sex in a casual way?

He honestly couldn't remember anyone ever feeling that way about him. Especially not someone like Hannibal; someone who was intelligent, and loyal, and strong, and fucking _impressive_ in a lot of ways. It tugged on something in Face's chest region. A warm glow lit gently in his stomach. Hannibal actually loved him. Didn't he owe it to the other man, then, to at least try?

“I never thought I'd say this,” Face began, “but I think I could be willing to experiment.”

Hannibal winced; Face could see it. “Kid, please.”

And the pleading tone in Hannibal's voice was so heart-wrenching that Face closed the distance between them and placed his hand hesitantly on Hannibal's shoulders. “I'm serious. You know I'd die for you, Hannibal; I'd follow you behind enemy lines any day. But I've never done this before. I know this is the worst cliché ever, and if you laugh I swear I'll punch you, but can we take this slow?”

Hannibal still didn't turn around, but there was (to Face) adorable hope in his voice when he asked, “What this?”

“This. Us. I think... I'm not gay, but I think I could like you. If you let me take things in my own time,” Face said. “I mean, I already... care about you. I respect you and shit. If we can work in the sex thing, we're as good as a married couple already.” He gave Hannibal's back one of his fake grins with all confidence and no feeling in it.

Hannibal turned around, an eyebrow arched. “A married couple?”

Face's grin faltered, but he bravely soldiered on. “Yeah. In time. When I can get used to the idea.”

Hannibal's shoulders seemed to drop a foot or so, then, and the older man relaxed into a wide smile that was as warm as Face's was nervous. “I've been waiting for you for nearly ten years, kid. I can wait until you come out of whatever closet you're in.”

Face was about to bitch about the closet part when something that Hannibal had just said, truly registered with him. “Wait, what – you've _waited_ for me? Waited for me, how? Don't tell me the great Hannibal Smith has been saving himself and pining away for a mere kid all these years?”

Even Hannibal's _ears_ turned red. “Shut up, kid, or I'll punch you.”

Face laughed. “You know, if it wasn't so pathetic, that would actually be the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me. Celibacy? Really? No wonder you smoke all the time!”

Hannibal offered a growly, angry sound and gave Face a hard shove in the shoulder. “I'm going to tear your head off in the next five seconds, Face!”

But with Face's best disarming grin in place, Hannibal could do nothing but helplessly ruffle the kid's hair. Then Face cleared his throat, shook his head as if to clear it, and nodded his head towards the house. “Go back in?”

Hannibal nodded his assent and followed his lieutenant out of the cramped space of the shed. When they were half-way across the lawn, Face casually said, “So, that was embarrassing. Let's never do the whole heart-to-heart talk again, ever?”

“Agreed. Poker?”

“Yeah. Hey, you think Murdock's got some leftover pancakes for us?”

“No, Billy's probably eaten them. But there's always the Jägermeister we didn't get around to finishing last night.”

And Hannibal didn't say anything, but that morning couldn't have come out better if he'd planned it. He decided to get Face drunk a lot more often.

 

**Part II - Later**

“Boss?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember that time when we got drunk and... hooked up...”

“It was three weeks ago, Face. Yeah, I remember that.”

“Well, you were all covered in hickeys when we woke up...”

“And you were sore and come-stained. Your point?”

“That's just gross, boss. I was thinking, I don't usually leave hickeys. Like, ever. So how come I made so many on your chest?”

Hannibal put his book down, then, and grinned at the younger man. “You were very... enthusiastic about it.”

“Yeah, that's the thing I've been meaning to ask you about,” Face said, gathering the last bit of courage necessary for this. “What did you do to make me that... enthusiastic?”

They were sprawling on their separate beds, narrow little things with wrought-iron headboards. Face had had some trouble finding them a place to stay this week, so they'd ended up in some old lady's house, and BA had quickly claimed the downstairs master bedroom. He insisted that if he had to share with Murdock, then he'd be damned if he was sharing the smallest room with the “crazy fool.” The only other bedroom was a small guest bedroom upstairs, with flowered wallpaper and narrow, old-fashioned beds. And frilly, pink curtains, which had been driving Face nuts for the past ten minutes.

Hannibal had been reading a book, Face had been staring up at the ceiling. Thinking. And he was thinking, maybe it was about time he manned up and got serious about him and Hannibal. Sleeping next to each other was nice, but waking up with Hannibal's morning wood against his ass for days on end had spurred Face on from determined to curious. The more he though about it, the more he figured sex with Hannibal would be just fine.

Hannibal looked at him for a long moment, the colonel's gaze growing heated. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah, unless it includes a date-rape drug, I'd like to find out,” Face said with his most flirtatious grin in place.

Hannibal stood up, then, and toed off his shoes and socks. He undid his belt, and then began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Uh, boss?” Face stuttered, suddenly shy at the sight of Hannibal undressing slowly in front of him, but Hannibal simply continued undressing until the colonel was stark naked. Then he knelt in front of Face, on the floor between the younger man's feet, and put his hands on Face's knees, pushing them a bit further apart.

Face was getting hard in his pyjama pants. The hot, hungry look in Hannibal's gaze was too much for any man to resist, and Face didn't want to put up any resistance. Especially not when Hannibal's fingers undid the drawstrings on his pants and slipped beneath the waistband of said pants.

Hannibal said nothing when his hand closed around Face's growing hardness. The colonel pushed the fabric down Face's hips, pulled out his cock and stroked it a few times. Face had to swallow hard to even remember how to breathe; Hannibal was looking up at him with a grin in his eyes, completely naked, and he was on his _knees_ , ready to just...

Hannibal took the younger man's cock into his mouth and began sucking, his tongue stroking hard against the underside.

“Fuck, boss,” Face moaned, a hand coming up to tangle in the silver hair. “This... this got me all riled up, huh?”

Hannibal's lips slid slowly off his cock, making a right show of it. The colonel grinned at him. “No, but this did.”

Then he tugged Face's pyjama pants further down, and bent down once again – to pull Face's _balls_ into his mouth, this time, playfully and with just a hint of teeth. Face gave a hoarse shout of pleasure as Hannibal's tongue ran over the coarse skin, making him squirm on the bed. The heat, the delicious wet pull of Hannibal's mouth was making him desperate; he needed more of the other man. Pronto.

Gasping for breath, Face pushed Hannibal off him, then launched himself from the bed and onto the other man – causing them both to hit the floor with a thud. Hannibal winced a little as he found himself on his back on the cold floor with a naked, panting lieutenant on top of him.

“Yeah, I can see how that would have made me give you hickeys,” Face said, breathless and eager. “Want another one?”

“Not really,” Hannibal said, “unless you're going to fuck me for it.”

Face's mind came to a complete halt. Fuck him? Fuck Hannibal Smith? Could he even do that? Wasn't there some law of nature or something that dictated that Colonel Hannibal Smith didn't take it up the ass? It seemed so... not him, somehow.

“Really? I mean... you don't mind?” he asked, his mind reeling but his dick really, _really_ liking the idea.

“I don't mind if it's you,” Hannibal said, his voice deep and gruff. “I don't let just anyone do this, kid.”

Face threw himself at the other man again, pressing their lips together and feeling the click of teeth in there as well. Their bodies were hard against each other, Face still wearing an old t-shirt and the pyjama pants tangled around his legs. Hard, but just right. Face let his hand wander, touched Hannibal's hip and then his cock and the colonel _growled_ like an animal in heat. Face sent his hand questing further, between Hannibal's legs this time, but the older man tensed and stopped him.

“On the bed, Face. Or this is going to be fucking unbearable tomorrow.”

Face grinned, and then it morphed into a smile and they got off the floor together, Face lost his last pieces of clothing, and they tried to fit both of their bodies onto Hannibal's bed. It was a tight fit, and Face almost guffawed at the thought of how they must look, two grown men of not inconsiderable stature crowded together on a narrow little bed with a flowered spread.

Hannibal opened the bedside drawer and extracted what looked like a ketchup packet, only it was dark blue and discreet. Face's mouth went dry at the sight of it. They were really doing this, and they were doing it now. He was going to fuck Hannibal Smith right then and there.

“Want me to do it?” Hannibal asked, eyes on Face's panting mouth.

“Do what?” Face asked, not paying the least bit attention to anything but how fucking bad he seemed to want to fuck another man.

“You know, preparation,” Hannibal said, and there was something sheepish about the way he waggled the little packet. “You don't remember from last time, but this isn't like fucking a girl, Face.”

Face all but glued his lips to Hannibal's, snagging the little packet of lube from his colonel. He broke the kiss, grinning. “I had a feeling that might be the case, sir. How should we do this?”

“First, you should stop calling me sir, it makes me want to throw you over my knee and spank you,” Hannibal growled. Then he turned around and laid down on his stomach, chin pillowed on his arms. Just waiting for Face to...

Face tore open the small foil packet and squeezed a handful into his palm. He stroked his own cock a few times, coating it in slick, and moved over Hannibal, holding himself steady.

“Whoa, kid, easy,” Hannibal said, shifting and twisting until he was on his side. “You can't just... go in like that. Here, give me...”

And Hannibal squeezed what was left of the lube into his hand, then reached down and began prepping himself. Face gave a strangled sound of disbelief as he watched Hannibal finger himself open, two fingers at first, then adding another, the older man's eyes glazing over with pleasure as he worked himself ready for Face.

“Okay, I'm good. Take it slow, kid,” Hannibal said, and they were on their sides, Face behind Hannibal, and then Face positioned himself and pushed forwards until Hannibal's body just gave in to him. He slid all the way in, feeling a tightness he wasn't used to and a heat he just couldn't believe.

“Christ, Hannibal,” Face panted, his lips at Hannibal's ear. “Is this... Is it always like this?”

“Mm,” Hannibal said, his voice a deep rasp of sound. “C'mon, move.”

And Face moved, and it was fucking awesome, his mind raved, how Hannibal could just take it like that. It was fucking _hot_ how the colonel pushed back and gave as good as he got, and it was fucking incredible that Face didn't once stop to consider that he was having sex with a man. He couldn't get his head around the fact that this was Hannibal _submitting_ to him; giving him something that he didn't give to anyone else.

Face lost his mind in a rush of release heartbeats later, pushing Hannibal down to the mattress and rearing back to look at the broad shoulders and silver hair he adored so much and fuck, yeah, this was _his_ Hannibal. He came harder than he ever had.

“Face,” Hannibal gasped, his body blanketed by the shuddering conman. “Face, please!”

Face had to force his body to move away from the colonel; he really hated the loss of skin contact. But he pulled out, and pushed Hannibal over onto his back, and grabbed the older man's dick. Face's lips fastened on Hannibal's skin just above the collar bone and the suction told Hannibal he'd have a gigantic love-bite there tomorrow. The lieutenant jerked Hannibal until he came with a shout of Face's name, body arching up and sticky come coating Face's hand. Hannibal's face was unbelievable to watch as it crumpled in orgasm.

They lay together for a while, racing pulses coming down and sweat cooling on their skin. Face, chin propped up on his elbow, couldn't stare enough at Hannibal. Had he actually been worried about the fact that they were both guys? Had he actually cared that Hannibal had a dick instead of breasts, when the other man meant as much to him as he did?

_Why, you dickhead? Did that ever matter? Did it even matter in the Army?_

“Face. I can hear you thinking. It's making me antsy; since when did you think, kid?” Hannibal said, snorting with amusement. “Get down here.”

Face acquiesced and laid down next to the colonel, who immediately pulled Face to him for a kiss, then turned so he could spoon with the younger man. “Just so you know, I don't cuddle.”

“Of course not, boss. Real men don't.”

“Exactly. Now go to sleep.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don't make me spank you, Face.”

“Fine.”

Face never intended to keep that promise. He broke it the very next night.


End file.
